


Gotta Go Fast

by good_chicken_nugget



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 07:25:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/good_chicken_nugget/pseuds/good_chicken_nugget
Summary: Based on literally five seconds of dialogue from Call Me Kevin's DBH playthrough and a picture my friend drew me. The only premise is that I like writing Connor doing ridiculous shit (aka rollerblades)





	Gotta Go Fast

“I need something to make me faster.”

Hank looked up from his computer, mid building his fantasy basketball team while a half done report loitered in the corner of his screen, to find Connor staring at him intently. “Why?”

“These deviants we’ve been tracking down keep out running me. I should have been able to catch him but he slipped right through our fingers,” the android replied.

“Your fingers,” Hank corrected him. “I was still hanging off the side of a building, remember?”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow and his gaze dropped to his desk. Hank returned to his fantasy team, and for a few moments there was just silence. Another officer walked by and Hank quickly pulled his report to the foreground until she passed. He glanced up at Connor, who had also returned to his work, though his LED was still yellow.

Hank sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Can’t you get like, robosteroids?”

The android looked up again as his LED went blue. “You could request CyberLife to send enhancements for me.”

“How long would that take?”

“On average a request is processed in seven to ten business days followed by another seven to ten business days for delivery,” Conner replied as though reading a website description.

“Sounds like a lot of effort,” Hank replied, grabbing his cup of coffee and taking a sip. It was cold and he quickly set it back down.

“Do you have any other ideas, Lieutenant?” Connor replied, watching him. 

Hank shrugged and began scrolling absentmindedly through his roster, wondering if there might be a fresh pot of coffee in the breakroom. “Shit, I don’t know. Get some rollerblades or something.” He could see the breakroom past Connor’s head and watched as someone poured themselves a cup of coffee from the pot. Perfect. “I’ll be back,” Hank said, grabbing his mug. “You keep working.”

“Okay, Lieutenant,” Connor said, watching him walk by before continuing to tap away at his computer.

 

The next morning, Hank arrived at the station with a throbbing headache. He sat down at his desk with a groan with a to-go cup of thick, black coffee and a greasy breakfast burrito from the Mexican joint across the street from his third favorite bar, hoping that one of them would do the trick. Yet, before he could take a single bite of his burrito he saw what he desperately hoped was just a hungover hallucination gliding towards him.

“Good morning, Lieutenant.” 

Hank gaped at the sight before him, breakfast and hangover briefly forgotten. “Connor. What. The. Fuck.”

The android stood before him with the poise of an Olympic figure skater awaiting his score from the judges, splayed-foot in his newest addition, a pair of sleek black and white rollerblades. “I thought about what you said yesterday. While unconventional, I concluded that rollerblades would indeed be a cheap, yet efficient way to make me faster.” 

Hank didn’t say anything, still not wanting to believe what was before him.

“I downloaded rollerblading software that included a ‘free-riding’ bundle,” Connor continued, unfazed. “This way I’ll be able to safely navigate just about anywhere I could normally go on foot, while increasing my top speed by thirty percent.” 

Hank could hear whispers floating about the desks, and when he glanced around, he saw Reed watching them with a look on his face like it was Christmas and his birthday all in one and his family hadn’t skimped on the presents. Even the captain seemed to notice something was amiss, though it didn’t look like he had spotted Connor yet and Hank wanted to keep it that way.

“We need to get out of here,” he growled, grabbing his coffee and burrito and herding Connor towards the back door, hoping to avoid the captain’s notice.

“What’s wrong, Lieutenant?”

Hank blanked. “What’s wrong? Are you serious?”

Connor hesitated, blinking rapidly for a moment. “I -- yes, Lieutenant.”

Shaking his head with disbelief, Hank kicked open the door and practically pushed Connor out into the alley. When the door closed behind them, he rounded on the android. “ROLLERBLADES?” he bellowed. “Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow and he opened his mouth to speak, but Hank cut him off.

“I was joking, you plastic pinhead,” he said, exasperatedly holding the bridge of his nose with the same hand that was holding his coffee. “I know you know what a joke is.”

“Of course,” Connor replied, almost sounding offended.  
“Then why the fu--.”

“I concluded that --.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, yeah, nevermind,” he interrupted, waving his burrito at Connor to silence him. “Well, we can’t go back inside now and I need somewhere to eat my damn breakfast before it finishes getting cold.” He looked Connor up and down. “Might as well get some entertainment out of those things. There’s a skate park nearby. Wanna take your new wheels for a spin?”

The skate park was completely deserted and Hank could feel the chill from the concrete bench of the picnic table he was sitting at seep through his pants. Connor was, as always, unaffected by the cold, and began to skate laps around the area, slowly building up speed, his skates flashing in the weak sunlight. Finally digging into his breakfast, Hank watched him skate faster and faster until he was almost laying himself out parallel to the ground around corners. Finishing up the last of his burrito, Hank tossed the wrapper into a nearby trashcan and pulled out his phone. Licking his fingers clean of grease and then wiping them on his pant leg, he opened up the camera app and angled the lens at Connor.

“You said you could do tricks, right?” he called, pressing the record button.

Connor spun to a halt. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

“Do a flip.” 

The android furrowed his eyebrows for a second and then began moving again, scanning the area before lining himself up with a tabletop jump. He began to skate again, increasing speed until his feet were a blur, then he hit the jump and flew into the air. With the grace of a gymnast, Connor rotated backwards, back arched and legs out straight, one following the other as they reached for the sky and then connected smoothly with the downward sloping side of the jump.

“Holy shit!” Hank whooped, leaping to his feet with the camera still following Connor, who was now grinning and skating back towards him. “That was crazy! What else can you do?”

The rest of their morning was spent in the same manner and soon Hank’s phone was full of videos of Connor jumping, grinding rails, and doing various other aerial tricks. His personal favorite video came from the half pipe where Connor had almost collided with a bird midair. He was about to suggest the bowl next when his phone began to buzz and show a picture of a particularly large pile of dog shit. 

“What do you want, Reed?” Hank growled into the phone. 

“Just thought I’d let know that there’s a hostile deviant off of 22nd and Division that the captain wants you to check out. Make sure to take Ellen Page with you.” 

“Fuck off, you ass gremlin,” Hank replied before hanging up. He turned to see Connor casually riding up and down the sides of the mini half pipe. “Hey, Connor, we’ve got a case. Potential hostile.”

The scene at 22nd and Division was chaotic as they got out of the car. At this point, Hank was just impressed that Connor could navigate so well in his rollerblades, though they did draw some odd looks from the officers that noticed. 

“Hank, what on earth?” Detective Collins asked, eyes wide as the approached.

“Just...don’t ask,” Hank replied. “What’s the situation here?”

“Hostile is an AP700. It barricaded itself in its owners apartment on the third story, though the owner doesn’t appear to be home. Neighbors called it in an hour or so ago when they heard it smashing things,” Collins replied, reading from a tablet. “We haven’t had any contact with it.”

Just then, there was a loud crash and everyone looked to see something fly out of a third story window and fall to the ground in a shower of glass. The figured quickly straightened itself and took off sprinting down the alleyway.

“We’ve got a runner!”

“I’m on it!” Connor yelled, and in a flash he was gone, following the deviant down the alley, expertly leaping over trash bags and other obstacles.

Everyone stood stunned for a moment, seeming not sure what the protocol was for an android on rollerblades.

“What are you dickheads waiting for?” Hank yelled. “Follow them!”

Some took off down the alley while others hopped back into their squad cars. Hank jumped into his car and took off down the road, sirens blazing, as he tried to keep a visual on Connor and the deviant. After a couple of blocks he saw them both turn a corner into an alley that he knew was a dead end. He screeched to a halt and jumped out of his car, with sirens still running, and took off down the alley after them. Sure enough, as he came to a huffing and puffing halt at the end of the alley, he found Connor pinning down the AP700.

“I’ve got it, Lieutenant!”

“Nice job, Connor,” Hank replied, quickly cuffing the deviant. He led the android out of the alley, Connor gliding along behind him. Out on the street they were met by officers who took the android, stuffing it into one of the nearby squad cars. There were journalists as well, shouting questions to try and get the scoop on the latest deviant incident.

“Lieutenant Anderson! Has the deviant been apprehended? Did it try and fight its way out?”

“Yes we caught it, and besides a broken window there wasn’t any damage,” Hank replied, shouldering the reporter who had ask the question out of his way.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but is that android wearing rollerblades?”

The gather pressed collectively paused, and there was a moment of silence as they all turned to look at Connor. Then they exploded again, cameras flashing like crazy as they all shouted at the various officers.

Hank grabbed Connor’s arm. “C’mon, we need to get out of here.”

 

A few days later, Hank rolled up to the station to find a copy of that day’s newspaper on his desk, and on the bottom right corner of the front page was a picture of Connor in all his rollerblading glory. Connor was already at his desk and seemed to not have paid the paper any mind, but as Hank looked around, he spotted Reed sniggering behind his computer and knew something was up. Sure enough, within five minutes Captain Fowler was yelling for him to get into his office.

“Lieutenant, what the hell is this?” the captain exclaimed, slamming the newspaper onto his desk.

Hank fought the urge to smile. “Looks like a newspaper.”

“Goddamnit Hank, this!” Fowler replied, aggressively pointing at the picture of Connor. “On his feet!”

Still fighting the urge, though it was getting harder, Hank pretended to thoroughly inspect the picture. “I believe those are rollerblades, sir.”

“Don’t sir me,” Fowler growled. “I want them gone, you hear me?”

Hank barely made it to his desk before he started shaking with laughter.

“Is everything alright, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, looking vaguely concerned.

Hank waved him away, still laughing into his fist. After a few moments he cleared his throat and turned to his computer. “Tell you what, I’m gonna order you some enhancements to replace the rollerblades.”

“Really?” Connor asked, beaming. “Thank you.”

Hank grinned. “No problem, kid.”

“Does this mean I should get rid of the rollerblades?”

Hank paused for a second. “Nah, keep ‘em.”


End file.
